


Not A Joke (If You Can Choke On The Thought Of It)

by FascinationStreet



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Bruises, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Implied Johnny/Hendery, Light Angst, M/M, Marking, Scent Kink, Sexuality Crisis, Voyeurism, implied Johnny/Ten/Hendery, kind of, sexuality exploration, there's definitely some projection here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FascinationStreet/pseuds/FascinationStreet
Summary: Hendery has always been of the opinion that the whole ‘slowly at first, then all at once’ saying was a terrible cliché people liked to use to talk about falling in love to make themselves sound deep. Then he found out that actually the saying was originally about going bankrupt, which kind of ruins his point, but it’s the only way he could describe the process of realising that he is, to put it bluntly, hugely and massively gay.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery
Comments: 13
Kudos: 108





	Not A Joke (If You Can Choke On The Thought Of It)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan for this to happen, I have so many other WIPs but this just kind of fought its way to the surface and here we are. 
> 
> This was conceived and started before any of the WayV princess stuff came out so it likely won't make an appearance but my gOD they're trying to kill me. 
> 
> This is for Rae and Kat, and thank you to Kat for looking over it for me and finding all of my stupid typos. Any mistakes remaining are my own!

Hendery has always been of the opinion that the whole ‘slowly at first, then all at once’ saying was a terrible cliché people liked to use to talk about falling in love to make themselves sound deep. Then he found out that actually the saying was originally about going bankrupt, which kind of ruins his point, but it’s the only way he could describe the process of realising that he is, to put it bluntly, hugely and massively gay. 

Looking back now, all of the signs were there, but impossible to see for what they were at the time. The way he thought it was totally normal to be obsessed with your friends and think about them all the time - it just meant that you  _ really liked them _ . The way he told himself that he would watch the other trainees constantly to ‘study their technique’ or something else terribly transparent and obviously wrong. The way his mother and aunts would fuss over him not having a girlfriend and he would tell them he was just too busy with his studies to think about girls.

Even when he finally got placed into a group and they all moved into the dorm together, even when he ended up rooming with Ten, who is quite possibly the gayest person Hendery has ever met, he didn’t realise. 

Ten is the one who made him realise eventually. It didn’t happen as quickly as it probably should have, but denial and wilful ignorance can be a hell of a thing when employed effectively. It takes  _ months _ of Ten’s terrible double entendres and quite frankly terrifying disregard for what exactly qualifies as too much information every time the topic of sex comes up, even tangentially, until Hendery is left with no option but to acknowledge the truth that he’s not entirely straight. 

Being that they are seven young guys living, sleeping, and working together, with very limited access to the delights of the outside world like dating and hook-ups, it’s not surprising that most of their conversations eventually devolve into sex talk. It’s not surprising, but it is extremely unfortunate both for Hendery’s sanity and his poor heart.

The final nail in the coffin of his career as a heterosexual man came one afternoon while they were on lockdown before their debut, attempting valiantly to distract themselves from their growing cabin fever. They’d been spread over any and all soft furnishings in the lounge talking about first crushes, and Hendery was feeling good -he’d just told a story about the first girl he kissed at school after a disco, and he hadn’t even flinched when Ten told them about the first boy he fell for. Then Kun asked Ten how he knew he was gay from such a young age and Hendery’s life changed.

Ten regaled them with a story that he had clearly perfected over the years, telling them that he hadn’t known until all of his friends started going crazy over girls, and he’d realised that he was jealous of the girls for all the attention they were getting all of a sudden. That’s when he knew he wasn’t interested in girls the way the rest of the boys were.

There had been something in the way Ten talked about that shift from having girls as friends to having girlfriends and how he’d never understood it that had sounded too familiar to him, and he hadn’t said another word for the rest of the afternoon.

It had taken Hendery a lot of soul searching and nights waking Ten up with his general aura of desperation for some impromptu counselling sessions, but he’d made it out of the other side of the whole thing with his sanity intact. Mostly.

That sanity was about to be put to the test, however. 

Living on top of each other in a small dorm where there are only so many places to go means that it’s not really a surprise to walk in on something you don’t really want to see. It’s an accepted part of their lives as idols, just like the struggles of contact lenses and stalker fans. 

They’ve all seen each other in every stage of dress and undress so much that it’s not even noteworthy anymore, nor is overhearing someone indulging in a little stress relief on their own time. He’s walked in on Kun shaving his legs, and he’s seen Ten spend hours artfully draping himself over just about every surface in the dorm while directing his photographer  _ du jour  _ on how exactly he’s imagining the vibe for this round of artistically slutty photos for insta. 

He’s kind of surprised that, for the amount of time Ten spends taking photos of himself, that it’s taken over a year for Hendery to accidentally catch him taking sexy selfies, but there’s a first time for everything. 

Ten is on his knees in front of the full length mirror in the corner of the room, his back arched so much that Hendery’s spine twinges in sympathy. He's clearly trying to take a photo in the mirror over his shoulder that looks natural, but apparently even his flexibility has limits because Hendery can see his frustration reflected in the mirror. . 

It looks like he's naked at first, but as Ten sees him in the mirror and un-twists himself, Hendery can see peachy pink lace and silk, and he feels his face burn. 

He expects Ten to be embarrassed, or at least a little shocked at being caught since Ten's threshold for embarrassment is ridiculous, but there's not even a hint of it in his face. Instead Ten just smiles and stands up in a weirdly graceful and vaguely liquid movement that Hendery is so jealous of and holds his phone out towards Hendery to take, as he straightens the hem of his underwear with his other hand.

"Be a darling and help me out for a minute, would you?" Ten says, before he climbs onto his bed and finds the perfect position that's just the right amount of slutty and graceful and so perfectly Him. 

He ends up on his stomach, propped up on his elbows and looking back over his shoulder, one leg bent so that the material of his underwear pulls tight across his ass and Hendery chokes slightly. 

There's a level of tolerance that has to be built up when you spend an extended amount of time with Ten when it comes to the casual exhibitionism he's so fond of, but this is something new entirely. He's seen Ten in every state of undress, but it’s never been intentional like this. It had been a byproduct of outfit changes and tiny dressing rooms, something that is to be understood and expected. Ten asking Hendery to help him take faux-artistic lingerie snaps is not the same thing at all. 

He shakes himself after a few seconds and holds up the phone to frame the shot, telling himself that this is probably something that was always destined to happen sooner or later. His face still feels like he's just taken it out of a hot oven as he starts snapping photos, but Ten clearly doesn't feel self conscious, judging by the way he wriggles around on the bed going through poses, so Hendery isn't about to make the discomfort shared if it doesn't need to be.

In a way, he supposes, all of the late night therapy sessions Ten gave him back in the day means that he's probably been just as exposed as Ten is now. Just like, emotionally, and not in a sexy way. 

He loses track of the metaphor as Ten arches his back into the bed, his head hanging down between his shoulders and hidden from sight. He looks fucking good, and he knows Ten knows it too. The way his spine curves as his ass sticks out makes his waist look ridiculous, like even Hendery's average sized hands would overlap if he wrapped them around it. 

After a few more photos, Ten sticks his ass in the air like he's presenting himself and Hendery snaps another shot. It crosses the line from vaguely artistic to outright slutty in his opinion, especially the way it makes the underwear ride up enough to see the swell of his ass, but who is he to question Ten’s vision? 

When Ten keeps moving and pushes himself up onto his hands Hendery realises he was just getting up off the bed in that weird feline way that really doesn’t seem practical, and he feels another rush of blood to his face. Of course he couldn’t be normal, and now Hendery looks like a creep for taking a picture of it. 

He watches Ten knee walk across the mattress with a hand out for his phone, and Hendery stands there once he gives it back, watching Ten flick through the photos. 

A smirk plays around the corners of Ten’s mouth as he looks at them, then he hands Hendery his phone again. 

“Take a few more? Just for variety,” he smiles, and when Hendery nods tiredly he lies down and arranges himself again. 

He turns himself towards the camera but keeps his eyes down, like Hendery had just happened to walk in and capture him candidly, but once Hendery has taken a few more photos he looks at the camera, his eyes glinting darkly and hooded. 

Hendery’s mouth goes dry, and he’s reminded again of the reason he’s their main visual. 

When Hendery gives him back his phone again, the teasing smoulder falls away from Ten’s face and he smiles warmly, if a little smug, and flicks through the new shots.

“Thanks,” he says, deleting a few photos that don’t meet his standards, “mirror selfies are fine but the angle is so awkward sometimes.” 

Hendery hums, watching Ten attach photos to a message, but he can’t see who the chat is with. The phone makes a little whoosh sound as the message sends and Hendery suddenly remembers what he came into the room for in the first place. 

He moves over to his bed and picks up the jumper he left on it earlier and turns back to the door. 

“What’s everyone else up to?” Ten says, locking his phone and dropping it on the bed.

“Gonna watch a movie,” Hendery says, and counts it as a win that he doesn’t even hesitate when Ten rolls onto his side and he sees the little lace panel on the front of the knickers, “Xuxi and Sicheng are making popcorn.” 

“I’ll be out in a second, don’t start without me,” Ten says, and Hendery nods again before he walks out of the room. 

He shuts the door firmly behind him and breathes out a sigh of relief. 

Ten comes out just after Lucas and Sicheng have deposited far too many bowls of popcorn on the coffee table. Kun shakes his head despairingly at them as Ten folds himself into the space between him and Xiaojun. 

As the film plays, Hendery feels himself relax back into the cushions of the sofa, until Ten leans forward to put the empty bowl he and Xiaojun were sharing back on the coffee table and his shirt pulls up just enough for Hendery to see a flash of pink lace, and promptly inhale a piece of popcorn. 

\---

There was a night during one of Hendery’s particularly intense gay panic spirals where Ten was busy with SuperM, and he felt desperate enough to turn to Google for answers. 

He found a lot of nothing, and not much more that was actually helpful, but he did find an article that talked about how gay people who come out in their 20s and later in life can go through a kind of weird second adolescence. He’d clicked on it, feeling not very hopeful but a little intrigued, and read about people’s erotic interests developing and changing once they’re no longer being repressed. 

Thinking about it too much kind of made him want to cringe so hard that he died, but he couldn’t say that it was wrong.

It explained so much, like why things that he’d never thought about twice were suddenly so painfully erotic that he couldn’t stop thinking about them, and would inevitably have to find five minutes alone out of earshot of everyone else. 

Months and months down the line from the acceptance and acknowledgement that he is, as Ten likes to put it, Super Fucking Gay, he still finds weird things stupidly attractive. Even the strange and honestly pretty gross things that the boys do around the dorm. 

The way Lucas chooses to believe that clothing is optional and sits on their lovely leather sofa in just his boxers, even when he’s sweaty, the way Ten likes to worm his horrid bare and cold little feet between the thighs of whoever happens to be sitting next to him to steal their warmth, like a parasite, or the way Kun picks food off their plates at dinner with his bare hands and noisily sucks them clean before going back for seconds.

The stuff they do is annoying and gross and sometimes just baffling, but there are times Hendery catches himself staring and his mind wandering and he has to have a very firm word with himself.

He objectively hates the fact that Lucas and Xiaojun wait until they get home from the gym to shower because they claim the water pressure is better. He hates that he can smell them, all fresh sweat and musk, and he hates it even more that it makes his stomach twist and burn with arousal rather than the disgust at their hygiene standards that he should feel. 

Maybe he’s just one of those weird guys that gets turned on by testosterone and body hair and pheromones, even though between the seven of them there’s not all that much testosterone or body hair to be found. Or maybe he’s just weird full stop. 

He tries watching some porn to try to feel it out. He finds a video of two quote unquote Bears with biceps bigger than Hendery’s head going at it like they’ll die if they don’t fuck each other immediately. It’s hot, in that it’s guys having sex, but he feels more intimidated than anything else, and the amount of hair they both had doesn’t really do anything for him either way. At least he knows now that it’s not a specific thing for him, and he still got off, so, if nothing else, it wasn’t a wasted night. 

The next morning, he wanders into the kitchen to make some toast to tide him over until Kun makes them a proper breakfast. Kun walks in just as he’s finishing his first slight, and stretches his back out as he yawns. Seeing the trail of hair on his stomach disappearing under the waistband of his pyjama pants makes Hendery feel dizzy.

So he’s no further forward, really. 

\---

Ten and Johnny have been spending a lot of time together recently.

Hendery knows they’re friends, and from Ten’s inability to keep anything to himself he also knows that they’ve slept together. Probably multiple times, maybe a lot of times. 

Johnny seems cool, and he’s not hard to look at, and Hendery wonders why Ten wouldn’t be all over that 24/7 if he had the chance. He asks Ten about it after the third time Ten comes back to the dorms from seeing Johnny with messy hair and bruised lips, and Ten tells him that they’ve both been pretty busy and that it’s always been a casual arrangement. 

It makes sense; Ten has debuted twice within a year, in WayV and SuperM, and Johnny spent most of that year touring and promoting with 127. Even so, it still seems a little strange that it’s taken them this long since things settled down to hook up. But then again, what does Hendery know?

Either way, suddenly Ten has gone from talking about his hook-ups every chance he gets, to talking about Johnny every chance he gets. They’ve heard it all, from Johnny’s big hands to his big lips to his big dick. 

None of them are particularly squeamish about Ten’s graphically frank description of his hook-ups, and even if they were unsure of it, they’ve long since been desensitised through constant and repeated exposure. He thought maybe it would be different to hear about someone they know, or at least someone who Kun, Lucas, and Winwin know, since he, Yangyang and Xiaojun have yet to have the pleasure of meeting him. 

They’re having another impromptu sleepover in the living room that currently looks like a bomb has gone off in the bedding department of a store, and Lucas immediately takes exception to Ten’s latest ode to Johnny’s hands. 

“Ten, you realise that if dick size has anything to do with hand size, that makes mine bigger, right?” he says, looking half like he’s trying not to smirk and half like Ten has personally told him his dick is small. 

Hendery rolls his eyes. They all know Lucas’ dick isn’t small. Even if they didn’t live on top of each other, it would be hard to miss given the fact that he spends half of his time in the dorm wearing only boxer briefs just tight enough to let them all know exactly what he’s working with. 

Ten’s face is a vision, and, as the smirk slowly creeps across his face, Hendery settles in for a weird night. 

It is a weird night, especially after Ten refuses to make a ruling without solid evidence. They both disappear to the bathroom for a weirdly long time, and the rest of them collectively agree to ignore it. 

In the end, Ten decides that, while Lucas’ hands and his dick are bigger, it’s still not as thick as Johnny’s, and Hendery spends the whole time desperately searching for something sharp enough to puncture his ear drums so that he never has to hear about Lucas’ dick in such detail again. 

\---

Xiaojun invites Hendery to his and Lucas' boxing session and Hendery had nothing better to do on a Sunday evening, so he goes.

They walk through the doors of the gym and Hendery is immediately assaulted by the smell of Men. It's like the way their dorm smells sometimes if the dorm auntie hasn't been by for a while, except it's so much more concentrated, like the distillation of testosterone and aggression. 

It only gets more powerful once they're out of the changing rooms and into the actual gym, and Hendery feels dizzy with it. It's a bad smell, except for the fact that he can't fucking get enough of it.

Their trainer is not only gorgeous, but exactly the type of person that the smell in the room would belong to, not one of the friendly runner types he's used to at the gym near the dorm.

This guy is tall and easily twice as broad as Hendery is, with a shiny bald head and veins visible in both temples. His neck is thicker than his actual head, which makes Hendery's mind boggle because, really, how is that even possible?

He looks like he could snap Hendery clean in half with one hand while shotgunning a whole can of beer with the other,, and the thought of it makes him shiver. 

The actual workout is just difficult enough that he has to really concentrate on what he's doing with his arms and and his legs, which is a blessing, because otherwise his mind would be free to wander to all sorts of places that would likely get him into trouble. As it is, he can feel his dick at half mast, and he's just thankful that he chose loose shorts today so he doesn't humiliate himself entirely. 

In the end, he manages to convince himself it's just the endorphins of a hard workout that make him feel like a live wire, and ignores the rational part of his brain that tries to remind him that he doesn't get like this every time they spend a day dancing in the studio. 

He declines any future invitations to boxing, and sticks with the kale-eating crossfit instructors that he knows and trusts. 

\---

Even though he’s been with SM for years now, Hendery has never officially met Johnny. He’s seen him training and performing, he’s seen interviews with him, and he’s even been in the same room as him once or twice, but they’ve never spoken and they’ve never been introduced. 

But Hendery knows too much about Johnny, more than he’s entirely comfortable with knowing. He knows what his cologne smells like from the way it lingers on Ten’s skin and on the sheets of his bed. He’s seen at least half of his wardrobe draped over Ten’s much smaller frame, the arms of the sweaters so long that even with the cuffs rolled up a few times they still fall over Ten’s hands.

He knows what things Johnny and Ten talk about when Ten thinks Hendery is asleep, knows that Ten calls him ‘Daddy’ when he’s being bratty and that Johnny laughs at it every time, and he knows that Ten likes it far too much when Johnny calls him ‘Kitten’. 

Hendery knows how Johnny’s voice drops an octave when he tells Ten how to touch himself, and he knows what Johnny sounds like when he comes, even if it is slightly distorted by the phone speaker and the distance between his and Ten’s beds. 

He’s been doing ok for a while now, in himself. He’s moved past the denial and bargaining stages of acceptance, and now more than anything he’s trying to figure out what does it for him. Liking boys is a given at this point, but he doesn’t know exactly which boys he likes. 

Working as an idol has meant he’s long since accepted that he will, more likely than not, only know the touch of his own right hand for a good while yet. He’d accepted that, even before he realised he wasn’t interested in girls outside of a professional capacity, but The Realisation only served to reinforce the many and varied hoops through which he’d have to jump to find someone he could trust enough, just to consider hooking up with.

But Ten’s late night phone sex sessions have changed that. 

It was fine at first, but as with everything else inconvenient in his life, the frustration creeps up on him until he can’t ignore it, and suddenly he can’t seem to keep his mind off sex for more than thirty seconds. 

He just can’t stop thinking about it, about  _ anything  _ even vaguely related to it, and he feels so pent up that he might actually burst if he doesn’t find a way to blow off some steam. 

Every time Kun or Lucas touches him he thinks about what it would be like to touch them back, purposeful and explorative, or what it would feel like to just lean in and kiss them. 

He hates himself for it. They’re his second family for fuck’s sake, but once he starts he just can’t stop. He starts taking a shower in the morning as well as atnight, and takes long enough that Kun starts making passive aggressive comments about the water bill as if they don’t have more than enough money to cover it, but it’s worth it just to be able to chase some sense of satisfaction without worrying about Ten waking up before he can get off. 

He thinks about all of them, at one time or another. 

Yangyang he discounts almost immediately. He’s their maknae and honestly he gets the impression that it would be like the blind leading the blind, if Yangyang could actually stop talking for long enough for anything to even happen. 

Thinking about Winwin feels weird in way he can’t seem to put his finger on, almost like he’s corrupting something pure, and as pretty as Xiaojun is he doesn’t actually do anything for Hendery’s dick. 

Lucas’ pathological aversion to shirts and his casual confidence that he’s the most handsome person in any given room should be more annoying than it is attractive, but watching him do press ups on the living room rug makes Hendery’s stomach flutter every time. 

Kun, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Lucas in terms of appeal, but is just as maddening. He’s so quietly competent at everything he does without making a show of it, from somehow being able to replicate a dish perfectly from even the most vague and unhelpful description of it, to seriously looking into flying lessons. He gives of an air of reassurance that makes Hendery feel impossibly inexperienced next to him, and the fact that that somehow translates to being a turn on for him is something that he really doesn’t want to look at in depth. 

Sometimes he images going to Kun and telling him everything, just letting everything go about how desperate he is to be touched and how, as much as he denies it, there’s a part of him that can’t stop worrying about how inexperienced he’s going to be by the time he’s in a position to seriously look into dating men. It always leads to fantasy-Kun telling him not to worry and to let him take care of Hendery, and laying him down to show him exactly what he’s been missing out on, and fantasy-Kun has the same natural talent in the bedroom as he does with everything else. 

And then there’s Ten. Ten, who waits until he thinks Hendery is asleep before he pulls out the box under the bed that houses all of his toys, who whispers filth into his phone every night and can’t quite keep moans and gasps from slipping out into the night, who now regularly asks Hendery to take photos of him in the kind of underwear that belongs on Victoria’s Secret models, yet somehow flatter Ten’s curves even more than the models themselves. 

Hendery has always been a good friend and pretended to be asleep as soon as he hears Ten’s sheets rustling or the quiet click of the camera on his phone, but now when the light switches off he can’t stop his eyes from opening. The darkness that hides him means he can never really see anything, but even watching the fuzzy outline of Ten’s body writhing on the bed, the heady silhouette of his profile outlined by the soft glow of the phone held between his ear and his shoulder, is more than enough to light a fire in his veins. 

What it is exactly that gets to him so much more about Ten than any of the others he’s not sure, but he’s come more times listening to Ten’s panting and bitten off moans that are only half muffled by the pillow he hides his face in, than he has to any of the other members. 

Either way, every time Hendery watches Ten admiring himself in the mirror he feels something in his chest, something that feels like butterflies or bees, a longing without a specific desire, and it feels like it’s getting more intense with every passing day. 

Hendery honestly isn’t sure he could quantify how he feels about Ten, even in the most vague terms that would only make sense inside his brain, but he suddenly appreciates Ten’s stories of being jealous of girls at school. Because, just like Ten wasn’t sure if he was jealous of girls because he wanted to be pretty like them or because he wanted boys to pay attention to him instead, Hendery isn’t sure if he wants to kiss Ten or to be Ten. 

\---

It’s getting beyond a joke now. Hendery is a nice guy, he knows how to be happy for people, even if they have something he wants more than he knows how to handle. But he’s pretty sure Ten is out to kill him.

It doesn’t seem like Ten has ever had what anyone would call a filter even in the most generous terms, but ever since he started messing around with Johnny it feels like he’s going far, far out of his way the shove the fact that he’s getting dicked on the reg under Hendery’s nose, and he doesn’t appreciate it. 

Maybe he’s just being sensitive, or maybe he’s not dealing well with the fact that what Ten has is not something that he can achieve for himself through hard work, patience, and determination, but every time Ten flounces into their room smelling of sex and Johnny’s cologne with fresh bruises blooming over pale skin, Hendery feels his self control slip a little more. 

But it can't  _ just _ be him, he’s sure of it. He’s seen Ten when he was onto a sure thing before, and this feels more targeted than any of those other times. Maybe he’s just really happy, maybe Hendery is just projecting extra hard and has possibly lost track of reality, but he’s certain there’s a part of Ten, as tiny as it may be, that is actively making a point of showing off. 

He wants to tell him to stop, beg him not to fuck Johnny in their room where Hendery can’t escape it, where he has to see Ten sprawled boneless across his bed radiating smugness afterwards. 

It stays inside, just barely, and he’s sure that he doesn’t do a good job of laughing it off, but the fact that he tries pacifies his anxiety over being a bad friend slightly. Instead he throws a shirt at Ten and tells him to cover up, to stop being a bad influence on impressionable didis.

He means it as a joke, and he hopes it comes out as light as he intends it.

Then Ten pulls on the shirt and Hendery realises it’s  _ his _ shirt, and he leaves before he can say something stupid. 

\---

It takes a depressingly short amount of time before his thoughts start drifting to Johnny and Ten every time he has the chance for anything more than a quick and perfunctory wank in the shower.

He thinks about tiny, lithe Ten and his knowing feline smirk, about towering Johnny with his kind eyes and strong hands. He thinks about the marks Johnny leaves on Ten and tries to imagine how he put them there. With his mouth, his fingers, his teeth? Were they from holding Ten down to keep him still or were they from pulling him back onto his dick while he fucked him? Did he bite at Ten’s chest while Ten was riding him or did Johnny pin him down and torture him with his teeth and tongue?

And once he does it once, he can’t stop his thoughts from going straight back there the next time he gets his hands on his dick. He hates it. It’s invasive and it’s creepy and it’s taking advantage, he knows this, but the horrible dark part of his brain keeps pouring poison into his ear. After all, if Ten is so cavalier about his sex life and so ready to share the gory details, surely he can’t be surprised when someone thinks about him that way? 

It doesn’t really matter which side of the debate he ends up on though, because as much as he tries to focus on something else while he’s getting off he’ll always end up there, thinking about the way Ten and Johnny would writhe together. 

Eventually, like with everything else, the sick guilt gives way to acceptance that Ten is responsible for at least 80% of Hendery’s spank bank. Ten himself continues to be smug and insufferable enough that Hendery knows if Ten found out he would be at least 50/50 between amused and weirded out, which helps him continue to look Ten in the eye on a daily basis. 

And then, one night after he’s exhausted from a long run and yoga with Kun, his brain gives him possibly the worst thought he’s ever had:

What would it be like to be in Ten’s place?

Ten is gone, away for a few days with SuperM working on promo, and Hendery has never been as thankful for Ten’s ridiculous workload as he is right now. 

What would it be like to feel small under someone… under  _ Johnny _ ? What would it be like to feel big hands holding his hips firmly, to feel the hard planes of muscle under his hands. Johnny’s muscle, Johnny’s plush lips, his voice is Hendery’s ear, his cock inside him. 

He lies there in the dark for hours, staring unseeing at the ceiling, feeling unable and a little unwilling to stop the spiral of thoughts dragging him further and further down, back into the shameful place he’d started in. 

When Ten gets back a few days later, Hendery can only focus on a spot between his eyes, unable to meet them, feeling that sick guilt that he’d thought he’d worked through sitting heavy in his stomach yet again. 

But he doesn’t stop. 

\---

Hendery is an optimist. He always has been, and it’s seen him through some pretty rough times. Life, however, has a way of kicking you while you’re down, and as hard as he tries to stay positive, it does kind of feel like he’s accidentally pissed someone off and now he’s cursed. 

Their manager drags them out of bed at an ungodly hour and bundles them all into the van, grumbling and only slightly placated with the tray of coffee waiting for them once they get in, ready to go to the SM offices. Kun tells them all that 9am is a perfectly reasonable time to have a meeting, but the kind of people who organise a meeting at 9am aren’t the ones stuck in a dance studio until 1am the night before, Hendery thinks sourly as he nurses his americano in the back of the van. 

They come out of the meeting two hours later, which is pretty short as SM meetings go, with the knowledge that WayV is about to be confirmed as part of the NCT family for real. They’ve always known it, but it’s nice not to have to pretend they’re not part of the same label anymore. 

He’s happy about it at first, that they’re finally official and they get to see people like Jungwoo again, and that they’re going to be part of the huge project NCT 2020 sounds like it’s going to be.

And then the team talks them through the various line-ups for the NCT U songs, and Hendery’s heart sinks when he sees his name next to Johnny’s in not one but two units. He has Yangyang in one and Ten in the other, so he’s not out there on his own with Johnny, but it’s not as reassuring as it should be.

He’s pretty sure that the tentative acceptance he’s managed to find with himself is based entirely on never having to be in the same physical space as Johnny, and thus never be required to confront the fact that he’s projected himself onto his friend and has made Johnny into his personal wet dream. It wasn’t a perfect system, but he didn’t really feel like he had many other choices other than do it and admit it or do it and ignore it until it became a problem, and now it’s a problem. 

He tries not to let his panic show on his face, and he’s pretty sure he does a good job of it, until they’re filing out of the conference room and Kun hangs back to squeeze his shoulder and tell him not to worry, he’ll do great.

Hendery smiles back and hopes it’s not as wobbly as it feels.

\---

By the time their title track unit starts learning the choreography for their song, Hendery is, by now, more than convinced that he's committed some kind of unspeakable crime in a past life or has definitely done something awful to piss off someone very powerful. 

Johnny is just as warm and as personable as Ten has spent the month since Resonance got pitched to them telling anyone who stands still long enough for him to start singing Johnny's praises. Johnny goes out of his way to keep conversations in the group open and easy to follow for Hendery who hasn't met anyone else in the unit other than Jungwoo. 

Ten is a little less available than Hendery would like for his own peace of mind considering he's the only other WayV member in the group, but after the first day Hendery resolves not to rely on him too much like a shy kid hiding behind his mother's legs. He can't really be upset at Ten being a little distracted given that it's been at least two years since he's properly seen Jisung, Yuta and Jaemin. 

Hendery has Jungwoo for support at least, and the benefit of Ten being so excited at getting to work with the other members again is that he hardly lets Johnny out of his sight for more than a few seconds at a time and thus Hendery doesn't have to deal with having to act like a functioning human being in front of him. 

Because the thing is, even though Hendery is a professional, he just can't seem to stop his brain from spiralling and remembering all of the things he shouldn't know about Johnny. 

He's overheard so many of Johnny and Ten's late night conversations, and he's taken more than a few of the photos Ten has sent to Johnny for his  _ personal enjoyment _ , but he's never seen them together like this before. 

It feels like he's going insane, but every time Ten laughs at Johnny Hendery aches to know what Johnny has said to make him look like that. Ten's laugh bounces around the practice room, and it's the laugh he knows from experience that Ten uses when he's trying to get someone to take him to bed. When he looks over at Ten holding court, draped over the bench tucked away in the corner of the room, he can see Ten's eyes glinting even from the other side of the room. 

Hendery's stomach twists uncomfortably every time he sees it, but he's not sure why it makes him so uncomfortable. He doesn't want to think about it too closely though, so he tucks it away into the dark box labelled Things To Repress in the back of his mind where it can't hurt him and keeps watching. 

He didn't peg himself for a masochist, but the last few months really have been a rollercoaster of discoveries. 

Every time Johnny touches Ten; his arms, his waist, his wrists, his back, Hendery is watching, wondering if there are marks on Ten's skin under Johnny's big hands. 

When Johnny speaks to him, Hendery feels the awkwardness rolling off himself in waves, but it's hard to talk to Johnny like a normal person when he's just spent the last hours imagining him holding Ten down while he fucks into him relentlessly over and over again. 

During a water break, Hendery slumps down against a wall and watches Ten and Johnny in the corner in front of the mirror. He sees Ten's insane ability to pick up choreography just from watching it through once and Johnny mirroring him until he hits the beats with more and more confidence, and imagines them moving together under the sheets of Ten's bed while Jungwoo chats beside him, unheard. 

It's a hard time for him. 

\---

He’s really not proud of himself when he does it.

They’d all been at the dance studio, practicing and fine tuning the routine with Ten making them run through it end to end a few times so he could pick out any parts that needed to be sharper. 

Once they’re done and they’re packing up the rain beating on the windows is audible without the music thudding through the room. It’s inconvenient, because no one likes getting wet, but they don’t have to go far in it since the car park is only a couple of paces away from the back exit.

Jungwoo tells them to shower at the studio and see if the rain eases off, but Ten declines and Hendery goes along with him, unwilling to make him wait when he knows Ten hates the studio showers. It's not that big of a deal. 

Ten, of course, likes to be dramatic and demands that Johnny gives him his hoodie so he doesn’t get wet going to the car even though he’s just turned down the offer to wait until it stops. It’s stupid; Johnny has been wearing and sweating in it all afternoon, and if he gives it to Ten he’ll just be left in a thin t-shirt. 

The weather is warm enough but with the rain there’s a slight chill in the air, enough that Johnny will be freezing in just a short. 

But when Ten asserts that he’d forgotten to bring a jacket and it’s always cold in the car and their dorm is further away than 127’s in response to Yuta’s sniggering, Johnny strips it off and hands it over to Ten with a fond smile.

Johnny’s shirt gets caught and pulled up around his shoulders when he slips the hoodie over his head and Hendery can’t stop himself from staring at the strip of golden skin and toned muscles that are exposed before Johnny tugs it back down. 

Then Ten pulls it on and Johnny fusses with it until it sits right on Ten’s tiny frame, effectively drowning him in miles of extra fabric, laughing at how small it makes him look. Hendery has to look away as the sinking in his stomach that he feels so often around Ten making itself known again. He pretends to fuss with the zip on his bag until the danger has passed and he can nudge Ten out of the door to finally go home. 

Ten walks down the corridors in front of him, and Hendery is so thankful for the small mercy of not having to control himself even for just those few precious moments. Ten looks so fucking small and there’s something about Ten proudly wearing his stolen hoodie that makes Hendery’s brain short circuit. 

He watches Ten turn up the cuffs a few times so he can use his phone properly. Ten has to keep shaking them back off his hands, even after he’s rolled them, and Hendery moves without thinking. He rolls them back down before turning them up properly until they’re just big enough to look ridiculous, but it means Ten can finally text properly.

The material feels soft under his fingers, obviously well worn but not to the point of getting threadbare. He wants to feel it against his own skin, wants to feel the warmth surrounding him, wants to peel Ten out of it and take it for himself. 

Hendery isn’t a big guy by any means, not like Johnny or Lucas or even Jisung who seems to grow another inch every time Hendery blinks, but he’s not petite like Ten either. He wonders if Johnny’s clothes would even look that big on him, or if they would just look like the sweaters he buys in the next size up to wear around the house.

Their ride back to the dorm shows up and it’s one of the company cars, and they pile into the back, shoving their bags in the middle instead of spending the extra few seconds it would take to put them in the trunk out in the rain. 

Ten alternates between watching people scurrying around in the horrid weather out of the window and flicking through his phone, and Hendery can smell the hoodie even more without the breeze.

It smells faintly of the cologne he knows is Johnny’s usual, probably clinging around the neckline from where it’d rubbed off his neck. But Hendery can smell Johnny’s exertion from the practice session, a mix of sweat and the waxed floor of the studio.

It’s a smell that Hendery has, through his years at SM, experienced a lot. Enough that some rather unfortunate associations have been made in his horrible fucked up little brain, namely between that smell and the feeling of accomplishment, and the accompanying low grade arousal that he usually feels after a hard session. 

It’s a mix of endorphins and adrenaline and the awareness of other boys and the way they’d smell the same as Hendery, sweaty and breathing heavily. It’s all mixed up together in a way that Hendery can’t even hope to untangle at this point; a mix of chemical reactions, achievement, and being constantly surrounded by unfairly attractive people, most of which he has stupidly strong emotional attachments to. 

He can feel it, a jittering in his muscles, that kind of low burn that makes you itch to move. Not strong enough to make you stupid but too strong to ignore. 

Ten follows him to their room once they’re home, claiming the first shower even though he was the one that was too prissy to just do it at the studio. Hendery doesn’t argue though, and he watches Ten strip off the hoodie and drop it on his bed before turning to the wardrobe to dig out some clean clothes. 

Ten leaves, and Hendery keeps staring at the hoodie. 

He knows from experience that Ten will be in there for a while, standing motionless under scalding hot water and letting it soothe overworked muscles before going through a terrifying amount of products that Hendery swears have become sentient and multiply when they’re not looking. 

He has the time to get off. He even has enough time to enjoy himself with it, no rush before Ten comes back. 

He shouldn’t really, he’s not sure where everyone else is in the dorm or if they're even here at all, but he knows he will. He has to, the heat running through his blood flaring now that he’s alone. 

And he can’t take his eyes off the hoodie. 

It’s so fucking stupid, it’s not even sexy in the slightest. It’s just a plain slate grey hoodie, no details on it or anything. There's nothing remarkable about it at all, objectively speaking. Yet he still finds himself sneaking over to the bed to snatch it up, darting back over to his own bed in the corner with his prize like a dog that’s just stolen a sausage from a plate while its owner wasn’t paying attention.

He can smell Johnny even stronger now, closing his eyes as he inhales and smells the mix of sweat and cologne as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pants.

He means to go slow, or at least slow enough that he’s not rushing anything, but once he wraps his hand around his dick he loses any semblance of control he had. He tugs furiously at himself, hips fucking up into the tight circle of his fist as he buries his face in the fabric and inhales. It feels like something shifts inside him, like the rational side of his brain goes completely offline and he’s reduced to his most base instincts.

The images in his head change and merge together into one big indulgent mass, switching between Johnny confronting him for staring and crowding him against the wall, Johnny standing watching him with a dark little smirk as he watches Hendery humiliate himself in front of him, Johnny pushing him to his knees in the practice room when everyone else has left, or in front of everyone. Johnny kissing him, laughing at him, fucking him. 

Hendery comes up for air every so often, taking in big gulps of air before pressing the fabric against his face again, craving the smell. 

He’s not sure what makes him open his eyes, not when the last thing his rational brain did was make the decision to keep them closed to spare himself the shame of having to watch himself lose control, but he opens them and sees Ten standing in the doorway, the door closed behind him.

He freezes, chest heaving and eyes wide, waiting for Ten to move. 

Ten stands there unmoving and watches Hendery with a blank face and dark eyes. The longer he stares at Ten the more he registers through the fog of arousal and blind panic in his head, like the damp curls of honey coloured hair on his neck, and the way he wears his towel wrapped under his arms like a girl. 

He feels the warmth of his lust slipping away, cold fear trickling into his blood to replace it the longer Ten does nothing.

Then Ten moves, and a fresh lurch of fear makes Hendery flinch as Ten walks towards him with purpose. He drops the towel just before he reaches Hendery’s bed, and Hendery feels a weird sense of disappointment when he sees that Ten is wearing a little pair of black shorts until he notices the lace trim on them. 

He wants to explain, to give Ten the hoodie back and beg him never to speak of this again, to promise that he’ll never even look at Johnny if Ten will just forgive him, but his mouth won’t move and he can’t find the words. Blind panic steals them from him and all he can do is gape stupidly, his hand still clenched in the fabric.

Once he reaches the bed Ten climbs up onto the mattress and swings a leg over Hendery’s hips, settling himself across Hendery’s thighs like he belongs there. Like nothing is out of the ordinary and he hasn’t just caught Hendery jerking off to his boyfriend’s hoodie.

It’s only once Ten has settled into his lap that Hendery realises two things; the first is that he still has his hand on his dick, and he moves to pull his hand out of his pants but Ten’s hand darts out and grabs his wrist to stop him from moving it. The second is that without the towel covering him up, Hendery can see the litany of marks scattered over Ten’s skin. 

He feels his mouth go dry as he tries to take them all in, darting between the fresh ones in purple and red to the older ones that have faded to yellows and greens under his skin. 

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Ten says lightly, still holding onto Hendery’s wrist.

Hendery swallows hard as he watches Ten’s free hand brush over a galaxy of a bite mark in the space between his nipple and the bold curve of his tattoo. He nods, hesitatingly, and Ten smirks.

“I thought you’d like them,” he says, “you’re always staring at us.” 

Hendery swallows hard again and looks up at Ten properly for the first time since he’d seen him in the doorway. He doesn’t know what he expects to find, his brain not producing any useful thoughts between the shame and embarrassment, but he expects to see at least some disgust, maybe anger, definitely some sign that he’s clearly violated Ten’s trust. 

But Ten’s face is amused, his eyes dark and catty, and Hendery feels suddenly like a mouse with his tail caught under the cat’s paw with nowhere to run. He watches Hendery squirm with such a knowing look that it’s pretty clear that Hendery has not been nearly as discrete as he’d hoped this whole time. 

“Is that your thing?” Ten asks, his hand still skating over his skin, “watching people, seeing what makes them tick?”

Hendery doesn’t really know how to answer, given that he’s still figuring out what his Thing is. In the end he shakes his head weakly, because he knows that he doesn’t want to  _ just  _ watch anything.

“No? hmm,” Ten makes a sound like he’s mulling something over. 

He smiles, and Hendery doesn’t find it even slightly comforting or reassuring, then he picks up the hand Hendery still has bunched up in Johnny’s hoodie.

“Then maybe you like to touch?” Ten watches him for a beat and Hendery stares back without moving, like he’s something small and furry trapped in the gaze of a predator. 

Ten uses both of his hands to spread out Hendery’s fingers before he pulls it over to his side and fits in on his hip, adjusting Hendery’s fingers until the tips of them settle over the finger-shaped bruises exactly.

Hendery stares at it, his hand cupping the soft curve of Ten’s hip, already feeling overwhelmed when Ten’s hand covers his and presses down on Hendery’s fingers until they dig into the bruises. 

He feels dizzy with the heat it sends through his veins and he feels his cock jerk hard in the hand still around it. It’s a horrifying realisation that even from the moment Ten caught him until right now his dick has barely softened at all, and that tells him something about himself that he honestly could have gone the rest of his life without needing to know. 

Ten evidently sees the movement as well, and he uses his free hand to wrap around Hendery’s fist through the material of his pants, coaxing it into movement and setting a slow pace. Up and down, squeezing at the base; it’s agonisingly slow but it feels so good. 

He feels his breaths turn shallow, and he doesn’t want to move any more than Ten tells him to for fear that it would break the spell. He doesn't want to even chance doing something that would cause Ten to leave him high and dry in the middle of possibly the most terrifyingly erotic experience of his life. 

“Johnny loves to get handsy,” Ten says, and his voice sounds so normal, like he could be telling Hendery about the traffic or the weather outside, “I think he gets carried away sometimes, like he forgets how strong he is. But that’s what makes it so good.”

Ten digs Hendery’s fingers into his side again and lets out a jittery breath before he starts talking again.

“These ones are fresh, from the other day. I got them just like this, with Johnny bouncing me on his dick, just over there.” He nods his head over towards his side of the room without looking away from Hendery, rolling his hips to grind down into Hendery’s thighs.

He’s nowhere near Hendery’s dick with the way he’s sitting, his ass cradled in the V between Hendery’s thighs, but the movement itself and the myriad of images that it sparks in Hendery’s brain is enough to make him groan. 

His hand squeezes his dick tight, just under the head, and he drags it down slow enough to feel like torture, imagining how it would feel to be Johnny. How it would feel to have Ten above him like this, sinking down on his dick and moving like a vision straight from a wet dream.

The thought of what it would be like to  _ be _ Ten creeps into his mind then, to have that kind of effortless confidence, the power to move like this, to put on a show. To know exactly how  _ wanted _ he is, and to take full advantage of it. 

It tingles in the back of his mind, knowing he’s not ready to deal with something so intense yet and especially not with Ten watching him like he’s about to swallow him whole, or like he knows all of Hendery's secrets, so he pushes it away to deal with another time. Or possibly never. 

The sense of movement breaks his brain out of its impending spiral and he watches Ten pull his hand up over his ribcage and fits it over another set of bruises in the shape of Johnny’s hand, placing the fingers over the darkest bruises just like before. These ones are different, they look a little older from the fading at the edges, and Hendery has to hold his wrist at an awkward angle to put his fingers in the right places.

“These ones are from last week, at Johnny’s place” Ten supplies, like he can see what Hendery is thinking again, “The rest of them went out for food and Johnny fucked me from behind, face down in the pillows.” 

Hendery groans again, and uses the back of his wrist to push the waistband of his pants down far enough to free his dick so he can stroke himself properly as another wave of heat washes over him. 

He closes his eyes against the feeling, just shy of being too overwhelming. He just needs a few seconds to get himself under control again, to come back to some semblance of coherency, and only opens his eyes again when he feels Ten moving in his lap. 

When he opens them he realises that Ten has somehow swung himself around so that he’s backwards in Hendery’s lap facing the wall, and Hendery can see the full expanse of Ten’s back that’s littered with even more marks in a spectrum of colours and shades. 

He reaches back for Hendery’s hand and leads it to the twin of the handprint on the other side of his ribcage and Hendery’s fingers settle in the fingerprints without prompting. He digs them in again, satisfied to hear a rattle in Ten’s breath that tells Hendery he’s not the only one affected by this.

“They came back too soon,” Ten continues, picking up where he left off like nothing had stopped him, but there’s still a slight edge to it that wasn’t there before.

“He had to bite my shoulder to keep quiet.”

Hendery doesn’t need Ten to point that one out to him, his hand automatically moving to the livid circle-shaped bruise just above Ten’s shoulder blade that’s only just starting to yellow at the edges. He traces the deep purple dashes around the inner curve of the bruise that no doubt correspond to Johnny’s teeth and hears Ten’s slow intake of breath.

Then Hendery surprises both of them and digs his thumb into it hard.

Ten whines and grinds his hips down, and it simultaneously makes Hendery feel more and even less in control over himself and whatever this is supposed to be.

“And you like that?” He asks, having finally found his voice again, “All of the marks, the bites and the bruises?”

“You have no idea” Ten smiles, turning his head to the side before letting it fall back so he can see Hendery out of the corner of his eye, “You should see some of the marks I’ve left on Johnny. Maybe you should ask him to show you some time.”

Hendery feels his gut churn, guilt and heat and anxiety, and Ten’s smile turns sharp and toothy as he fully assumes control of the situation again. He has no illusions that he’s ever even come close to having any measure of control over Ten in his life, let alone right now, but it was nice to pretend for a moment. 

Ten starts rocking his hips again, just shy of Hendery’s dick, like he would set the pace if he was riding him even though Hendery can feel that there’s nothing for him to rub off on where he’s perched on Hendery’s thighs. 

He’s close enough that the back of Hendery’s knuckles brush his lower back just above the material of Ten’s shorts when he reaches the top of his dick on the upstroke. 

God, it’s overwhelming suddenly. The jealousy that seethes in his chest, the exhilaration of being allowed such a candid glimpse into something he’s been torturing himself with for months, that he’s allowed to  _ touch _ , and he feels the heat crawling up his spine as he gets closer and closer to the inevitable edge.

The hand that’s not on his dick continues its exploration of Ten’s back, following paths like constellations and pushing and prodding in tender spots, feeling Ten’s satisfied little noises like a kick in his own chest every time Ten lets one slip out.

He can’t see Ten’s crotch like this, but from the way Ten continues to roll his hips Hendery is pretty sure that he’s getting off on this too. 

Then he moves his fingers back to the bite on Ten’s shoulder and drags his knuckles over it hard, like a massage, and Ten actually moans. It’s the loudest sound he’s made so far, and Hendery feels himself reaching the edge like the crest of a rollercoaster.

He has the presence of mind in the split second before he comes to consider angling his dick away from Ten so that nothing lands on him. Then he realises that it would land on Johnny’s hoodie that’s still on his chest and he loses it, coming hard enough that he sees stars and his ears roar like he’s in a tunnel.

As he comes he bucks under Ten’s weight, desperately tugging at his cock as he paints Ten’s skin. 

When he opens his eyes again he sees the hoodie first, and his dick jerks and lets out one last weak pulse of come that lands on a bruise on the back of Ten’s hip that’s clearly where Johnny’s thumb dug in. 

Fucking hell.

His upper brain function switches off entirely as he collapses back into the pillows, and the hand that was still on Ten’s shoulder slides down his side until it comes to rest on the swell of Ten’s hip. He’s made a fucking mess of Ten’s back and if Hendery had any decency about him he would help him clean it off, but he can’t seem to move just yet.

The muscles in his legs feel like jelly, and the only thing he can move is apparently his thumb which, without any conscious input from his, has started to swipe through the streak of come near it like it’s trying to rub it into Ten’s skin.

He watches it, feeling his thumb move independent of him to catch more come once he's rubbed the first splash in. The motion of it is hypnotic almost and he feels himself drifting happily through the haze. 

“Is that some kind of marking thing?” Ten asks, and the shock of hearing his voice snaps Hendery out of the daze he’s lulled himself into like a bucket of cold water. 

It finally registers that he’s massaging his own come into Ten’s fucking skin like a freak and he snatches his hand back like it’s been burned.

“Oh don’t stop on my account, if  _ that’s  _ your thing. It’s kind of hot, actually,” Ten says and Hendery can see the sharp teasing little smile in his voice so clearly that he kind of wants to spontaneously combust right now, “kind of like a scent marking thing, so nasty.”

Ten shoots Ten one last smile, dark and thoroughly amused, before he hops out of Hendery’s lap and off the bed to go and grab some tissues off the dresser to wipe up the mess.

“Thanks for that,” he says eventually, once he’s twisted himself around like it’s nothing and the worst of Hendery’s come has gone, “it was fun. You can keep the hoodie you nasty little thing. Sounds like you like it more than I do anyway.”

“Yeah,” Hendery blurts out, just to say something at all. 

When he looks at Ten’s crotch to see if he’d at least gotten off too he notices that Ten, perhaps most humiliatingly of everything that’s just happened, is barely half hard in his underwear with no sign that he’d ever been anything more. 

Ten quietly pulls on some clothes and throws Hendery a cheeky little wave over his shoulder as he leaves again, shutting the door behind him. 

Hendery covers himself up again and lies motionless on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to process. He doesn't move for a long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> I feel like I always end fics with there will be more!! but I had to split this into at least 2 parts and the rest of it is very roughly drafted so like, I'm 90% sure there will be a follow up. Just don't hold me to it.
> 
> I love you! Come hang with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fascinationstrt)!!   
> And a blanket apology if I don't reply to comments in a timely manner but I DO see then and they DO make me feel amazing and I DO love everyone who takes the time to leave one.


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